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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780269">Worst First Date</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/pseuds/primaveracerezos'>primaveracerezos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dinner, First Dates, M/M, Mexican Food</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:01:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/pseuds/primaveracerezos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry takes Draco out for their first date. It doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>155</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worst First Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/gifts">JET_Playin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I prompted JET_Playin "worst first date" and he prompted it back to me, so here we are! This went a little off course, and the date isn't as bad as I originally intended. Obviously I'm craving Mexican food...</p><p>This is not betaed because I’m lazy and wanted to post it. If you see spelling/grammar errors, please feel free to point them out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Potter drove up to the valet stand and Draco finally glimpsed the name of the restaurant, Draco had to admit he was impressed. <i>La Salaté</i>, a brand new concept eaterie, was ridiculously hard to get into. His mother hadn’t been able to get a reservation in the next year, and that was with her social connections. </p><p>Draco had wanted to visit since the moment he heard it was next to impossible. </p><p>Of course, Potter could get in anywhere. He had probably called that morning and asked for their best table. Draco felt a sneer coming and reminded himself that he had agreed to a date--one date--with Potter. Against his better judgement. </p><p>He would never, ever tell a soul he’d had feelings for Potter since they’d had a few too many drinks at Neville, Ginny, and Luna’s wedding years ago. It was hard enough admitting it to himself, let alone squashing that little voice that whispered his fondness for the idiot had been around since Hogwarts. </p><p>Potter, ridiculously gallant as always, opened Draco’s door for him, hand outstretched. Draco took it and tried not to roll his eyes. The valet drove off with Potter’s little MX-5 (lionheart red, obviously) and Harry walked him inside. </p><p>“Eight PM for Black, please?” Harry said to the hostess.</p><p>She smiled in a bored sort of way (Draco would have to copy that) and typed on her computer. The smile turned to a frown. </p><p>“I don’t have anything for Black tonight, sir.” <i>Ah, fuck</i>, Draco thought. <i>There goes that dream</i>. “What’s the first name?”</p><p>Harry flushed. “Er, James?”</p><p>Draco cocked an eyebrow. Using fake names now, eh? That didn’t bode well. </p><p>“James Black, yes. We do have you for May 23, sir, but I’m afraid the booking is for one year from now. I’m terribly sorry.” The hostess did not look at all apologetic. </p><p>“Next--oh god. Do you have anything open tonight?”</p><p>“Tonight?” A less practiced man would have missed the flash of disgust on the woman’s face, but Draco saw it quite clearly and almost laughed. “I’m afraid not, sir.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>By the time they retrieved the car from the valet, it was nearing half past eight. Draco let himself into the car this time. </p><p>“You can just drop me at the closest Apparition point,” Draco said as Harry fastened his seatbelt. </p><p>Harry looked at him in surprise. “Oh, I thought we could still go to dinner. If that’s okay with you.”</p><p>Draco thought about it. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give poor Potter another chance. “Alright,” he said with a weary sigh. “Where to?”</p><p>~~~</p><p>Potter was surprisingly good at street parking, but Draco still had no idea where they were eating. Harry had driven them into a part of town Draco wasn’t familiar with--squat brick buildings practically on top of each other, laundry hung out to dry on the small balconies, old men sitting in plastic chairs talking over cheap beer. </p><p>This was certainly not <i>La Salaté</i>.</p><p>He followed Harry into a little yellow shop with no name, just several paper signs advertising <i>Especiales de Almuerzo</i> and <i>Tecate 3/£2</i>. </p><p>“Potter, what--?” he started.</p><p>Harry shot him a mischievous smile. “Just trust me.”</p><p>Draco, never one for trust, followed his stupid heart through the rickety door. </p><p>He was met with smells of pepper and garlic and flour and <i>food</i>. His grumbling stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in several hours and whatever was on the menu here would do very nicely. The inside of the restaurant was bright, with colorful paper squares with intricate patterns of holes decorating the eves, along with gorgeous paintings of tropical birds on the walls. Quiet music was playing over tinny speakers, just barely audible above the chatter across the tables. </p><p>Harry led them to a clear glass counter. Inside there was jewelry and candy, labeled with hand-written signs. A young man sat behind it reading a textbook. He looked up when Harry drew close and smiled.</p><p>“Harry! How are you, man?”</p><p>“I’m well, thanks, Fernando. How’s Lita, how’s the baby?” Harry smiled back just as broadly. “Erm, wait. Como--como es la bebe?”</p><p>Fernando chuckled. “Close! You’re getting better. That’s like, what is she like, you know, as a person? You mean como esta.”</p><p>Draco felt like he’d just walked into one of those dreams where nothing makes sense. He cleared his throat.</p><p>Harry elbowed him. “Fernando, this is Draco. We’re actually here for dinner. Maybe a couple of al pastor, some elotes, er--” He looked at Draco. “Not so spicy on the pastor?”</p><p>“No problem. There’s chalula on the tables if you need it.” </p><p>~~~</p><p>An older woman brought their food to them on paper plates, and Harry motioned to a side door, grabbing a little glass bottle of red sauce on their way out the door. </p><p>They sat at a small, plastic table outside. The same soft guitar music played out of a speaker on the wall, and little strings of lights were hung across the open space above them. It was quieter, just the two of them. Draco was still a little disarmed by the turn of events, but the cool night air felt calming.</p><p>Harry showed him how to bite the tacos so nothing fell out of the other side, and unashamedly wiped the creamy elote sauce off his face when he was done with the whole cob. Draco was cautious and felt a little lost without a full table setting, but he made do. The food was fantastic--better than anything he’d eaten in recent memory, even better than his mother’s house elves’ Christmas dinners. It was spicy and cheesy and oily and crunchy and some combination of things he’d never tasted. </p><p>When they finished, Harry dumped their plates in a bin nearby. “What did you think?”</p><p>“Good. Quite good,” Draco conceded.</p><p>“I come here all the time. The youth shelter isn’t far from here, and once I tried it I couldn’t stay away. Now I’m here at least once a week for lunch, more if I can find the time.” </p><p>Draco <i>hmm</i>ed, unsure of what to say. Harry traced his fingers over Draco’s hand on the table. </p><p>“I’m really sorry about the other place,” he said quietly. “I felt really stupid.”</p><p>“Well, you are quite thick, Potter,” Draco said without thinking. He bit his tongue. “It’s alright, though.”</p><p>“Pansy said you’d wanted to go there for ages.”</p><p>Draco paused. “You told Pansy we were going out?”</p><p>Harry glanced at him. “I asked her for help on where to take you. She said the posher, the better.” He looked around. “I guess I didn’t get that quite right.” </p><p>“I do want to go to <i>La Salaté</i>. But you’ve still got your reservation, haven’t you?”</p><p>“In a year, yeah.” </p><p>Draco smiled. Harry had a little fleck of food at the corner of his mouth. Draco reached out and brushed it off. “Take me back in a year, then.”</p><p>Harry grinned. “It’s a date.”</p>
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